Dreams Worth Keeping
by androidilenya
Summary: After the incident in Nargothrond, Amrod gets a visit from Celegorm. Or, a story in which there is no happy ending for the sons of Feanor. As usual. Oneshot.


**I own nothing, The Silmarillion belongs solely to J.R.R. Tolkien. **

**Set after the Beren-Luthien incident in the version where Amras died at Losgar.**

**Notes: Pityafinwë (Pityo): Amrod, Tyelkormo (Tyelko): Celegorm, Curufinwë (Curvo): Curufin, Telufinwë (Telvo): Amras**

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The sky was a dark, sullen grey, clouds heavy with snow. The red-haired Elf sat before the fire, one hand toying with his wine glass, the other resting on the hilt of his sword. The table before him was laden with books and papers, old maps and unanswered letters.

It was on nights like this that he half expected his twin to come bounding in from the cold, cheeks flushed red, a wide smile on his face.

_But that's never going to happen, is it? Not here._

There was a sudden pounding on the door. He started, almost dropping his glass. Setting it aside, he stood, frowning. "Who is it?"

"It's me." A familiar voice, muffled by the thick wooden door - but recognizable. Amrod's eyes widened and he hurried to the door and flung it open, revealing a tall Elf leaning against the frame, his face pale and drawn with pain.

"Tyelko!"

"Can I come in?" Celegorm was holding his shoulder, a dark stain spreading across the fabric of his shirt. There was an odd hesitation in his eyes, as if he half expected Amrod to slam the door in his face and leave him out in the cold.

"Of course." _Always, brother. _He swung the door open wider and Celegorm stumbled in, still holding his arm. "What happened?"

His brother slumped into the nearest chair, grey eyes bright with pain. He didn't answer. Amrod moved closer, reaching for Celegorm's injured shoulder. When his brother didn't resist, he pushed aside the blood-stained fingers and peeled back the fabric to reveal a long, dark wound. He prodded it with one long finger and was rewarded with an indrawn hiss of pain.

"Eru, Tyelko, what happened?" Amrod straightened, looking around - he was no healer, but every Noldor knew that it was usually a good idea to keep some bandages around the house. The Valar knew they'd had enough use for them since coming here.

"I don't want to talk about it." Celegorm's voice was tight, angry.

He found the bandages, brought them over to his brother. "Weren't you in Nargothrond with Curvo?" he asked, more to fill the silence than anything else. His hands unwrapped the white roll of bandages automatically, then set them aside. He dabbed at Celegorm's injured arm with a rag, watched the blood soak through.

"I said, I don't want to talk about it," Celegorm snapped, pulling away. Amrod was left holding the bandage he'd been about to apply, eyes wide.

"And I can do this myself." Celegorm tore the bandages from his brother's hands and started wrapping them around his shoulder. The red haired Elf stood there with his hands at his side, helpless in the face of his brother's pain.

"Is there anything...?"

"I'll have some of that wine." His brother jerked his chin in the direction of the mostly empty glass at the other end of the paper-strewn table. "And get your damn stuff out of my way."

Amrod made his way to the other end of the room, where a stack of dusty bottles leaned against the wall. "If you're here, where's Curvo?" Still trying, because nothing scared him more than his brother's silence.

"I don't know. Nor do I care."

The red-haired Elf blinked. That in and of itself was surprising. Celegorm and Curufin were practically inseparable - ruling land west of the river together, traveling together, seeking refuge in Nargothrond together...

And there was something else missing.

(where's Telvo, did he go back to the ships - but the ships are burning, he can't go back)

"Tyelko?" He dusted off a glass, poured the dark red wine in, made his way back to where his brother sat staring into the flickering fire. "Where's Huan?"

Celegorm's hand lashed out, knocking the glass from Amrod's hand. It smashed against the wall, twinkling glass and blood-red wine splashing the stone. A shard embedded itself in Amrod's cheek, a dark trickle - wine or blood, what did it matter when they looked the same - snaking its way down the Elf's pale face.

"T-Tyelko?"

Celegorm looked up, eyes dark with rage, and for the first time seemed to see his brother standing there. "Oh, Eru. Pityo..." He stood and clumsily wiped the blood from Amrod's face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"It's fine." The words came automatically, emotionlessly. Amrod was used to his unstable brothers - Celegorm and his sudden eruptions, Caranthir and his dark rage, Curufin and his cold, steel-like anger. "I'm fine." He pushed his brother back into his chair, swiping the blood away with the back of one hand. "Your arm..."

Celegorm looked down at his shoulder, where the bandages were soaking through again. "Damn." He looked up into Amrod's eyes, helpless grief there.

"Huan is...?" Almost afraid of the answer. Because just as Ambarussa was never without the other, Celegorm was never without his hound, remnant of Valinor, last reminder of what once was.

_Did you leave him behind, Tyelko? Did you let him__ leave you?_

_(let him burn)_

"He left me." Celegorm's fists clenched. "My own dog gave me this wound, Pityo. My own _dog_."

Amrod stood there, holding the bottle loosely in one hand, unsure how to respond. (And he raged against Caranthir's restraining arms, struggled, clawed at his brother, the burning ships blurring in the mist of tears pouring down his face - Telvo was there, and if he couldn't be there too he would die)

"Of all those I expected to betray me, Huan was the last. But I suppose it's only fitting - the betrayer betrayed by the only one he thought he could trust." Celegorm laughed, a harsh, mirthless sound that reminded Amrod of breaking ice, or the snap of wood in an unquenchable blaze.

Amrod refilled his own glass and pushed it across the table. Celegorm took it and poured its contents down his throat without even looking. He held it out blindly and his younger brother splashed more in, a few drops spattering the papers.

"It's my fault," Celegorm whispered, opening his eyes and regarding the glass in his hand. "Huan... he's right to hate me. We let Findaráto walk to his death, did you know that? Curvo and I, we doomed our cousin with nothing more than words. Then again-" He laughed, and Amrod winced at the bitterness there, "-it was mere words that got us into this mess in the first place, wasn't it?"

_Neither law, nor love, nor league of swords, shall defend from Fëanor, or Fëanor's kin..._

"Well. I'd hardly call an unbreakable Oath 'mere words'." He tried to force a lightness into his voice, laughter he didn't feel - because that was what Telvo would have done, wasn't it?

Celegorm sighed and knocked back his glass again. For a few long moments there was silence. Outside, the wind picked up, throwing snow against the windowpane.

"Do you dream, brother?" the light-haired Elf asked suddenly. "What do you dream of?"

"I... I don't remember my dreams." _(I dream about him, of course I do, what else would I dream of?)_ "You should stop, Tyelko-" Stop hurting yourself like this, stop trying so hard.

"I dream about the darkness and the fire," his brother interrupted. "Remember how Father dissolved into ash in Curvo's arms? Remember how Maitimo refused to cry? Sometimes I feel like I'm falling to ash-" Celegorm spread his hands and regarded them as if expecting to see them disappear then and there, "-and would anyone weep at my passing?"

Amrod's dark eyes darted to the window, where the first flakes of snow had begun to fall. "We would weep." _Or I would, at least. It would be too much to ask Maitimo to weep, surely, but I would weep._

And on the heels of that, almost amused: _You said 'we'._

_It's always been you and me, Telvo, what am I without you?_

Almost as though he had read his mind, Celegorm looked up at Amrod. "Do you cry for him? Do you cry for Telvo?" There was a heat in his eyes as he reached for the bottle and refilled his glass himself. Amrod flinched - when was the last time he had heard that name spoken aloud? Too long-

(not long enough)

"How can you even - yes." He swallowed, biting his lip. "Of course I do." _How could you ask that, Tyelko?_

"What were the last words he said to you?" Celegorm seemed almost to be enjoying this, dredging up his younger brother's long-buried (but not forgotten, never forgotten) pain. How long had the sons of Fëanor kept that unspoken agreement, to never bring up the loss of the Fated One in his twin's hearing? He had suffered enough. There was no need to speak of it. Ever.

Amrod paused, maybe for too long. The wind howled, snow lashing the windows. A log shifted in the fire, throwing up a flurry of sparks, sparks like the ones over the waters at Losgar, the ones mirrored in Father's dark, crazed eyes, the ones that had heralded his brother's death...

_I let him go back. I let him burn._

Celegorm narrowed his eyes. "Don't tell me you don't remember. I know that's a lie."

"He looked out at the shores at Losgar. And he smiled and said, 'isn't it beautiful?'" Amrod blinked back the sudden sting in his eyes. "Telvo... Telvo was always the one that believed in happy endings."

(there was fire on the water, fire of betrayal, and he was alone for the first time in his life)

"And then he went back and burned with the ships." It was said callously, bitterly. "And none of us got a happy ending, did we? Especially him. Not that we deserved one." Celegorm buried his face in one hand with a small sigh. "Do you think they'll forgive us, Pityo?"

"Who?"

Celegorm's eyes were blank as he looked up. "Everyone. Father. Telvo. Findaráto. Who else?"

(and his brother burned as he screamed to the heavens above, to Eru, to the merciless Valar, because this couldn't be true, this couldn't be happening, he couldn't be losing his other half like this)

"We deserve forgiveness no more than we deserved a happy ending."

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**Reviews are appreciated.**


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